


A bleeding issue

by Carabesh



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Female Biology, Female Jaskier | Dandelion, Gen, Geralt is a himbo who knows nothing about biology, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Being an Idiot, Menstruation, Not Beta Read, Random & Short, just stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23220370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carabesh/pseuds/Carabesh
Summary: “When will we reach the next village?” Jaskiers voice breaks the silence. Geralt can't even hear pain  in it. At most he might call it slightly irritated.“I really need to get some things, so today or tomorrow would be good.”ORGeralt grew up surrounded by men and masculinity. He respects women, he would never treat them cruel based on the fact that they are women.But he knows jack shit about them.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 360





	A bleeding issue

Sometimes Jaskier smells like she is bleeding. Geralt doesn't like it.  
At times it is not strong, only subtle. A frail odor carried in the wind. Other times it is a biting stench, hitting his nostrils in full affront. But Jaskier never says anything about any injury she might have sustained.  
Geralt really doesn't like it. Especially today.

Today it is strong, stronger than before. It whiffs over the breeze and settles around them in its full glory. When Geralt closes his eyes he can almost imagine the blood flowing from deep cuts and lacerations, dripping down on the ground and mingling with the mud and dirt of the forest.  
It is an unsettling image when he connects it to Jaskier.  
Geralt really dislikes it.

But Jaskier says nothing.  
She is quiet, yet agitated. Her hand keep strumming her lute with no melody in mind and she keeps shifting from one leg to another. Geralt can't even really see the blood on her. Wherever her wound is, she is concealing it well. He almost feels like complimenting her for putting on such a strong face.  
If it only wouldn't happen with such an unsettling regularity. The woman simply attracts trouble like a pile of shit attracts flies.

“When will we reach the next village?” Jaskiers voice breaks the silence. Geralt can't even hear pain in it. At most he might call it slightly irritated.  
“I really need to get some things, so today or tomorrow would be good.”  
Geralt huffs in response and keeps going, guiding Roach through the overgrowth on the path. If she needs bandages or salve, all she has to do is say so. It makes him angry that Jaskier doesn't trust him enough to inform him about her injuries.  
But he keeps playing along. Triss is right. He really is a daft idiot.

“Oh, good to know. Great. Really. Looking forward to some miserable days.” Jaskier chimes when Geralt ignores her question. He wrinkles his nose in response. It only piques Jaskier even more. She increases her pace and soon she is walking right besides him.  
The stench of blood fills his nose and gnaws at his thoughts.  
“You know, if you don't know when we will reach a settlement, you can just say so. But tell me! Or is it your new hobby to ignore everything I say? Because if so, rude!” She keeps going, bragging on . Geralt tries hard to concentrate on the road instead.  
But Jaskier isn't easily shaken. She followed him so far.

So she keeps going.  
“Or tell me next time when we're about to leave a place. Simply say: “Hey Jaskier, we will be traveling for some time and it might be a week or even more until we reach a new destination. So stock up on any inventory you might need on your travels. Because we won't see any, because I, Geralt of Rivia, prefer to travel on paths, that aren't even frequented by traveling merchants. You won't meet anyone you can buy something from you suddenly find yourself lacking of.”

“Maybe you should have thought of it yourself.” Growls Geralt. He tries not to look at her and her reproachful eyes. He just doesn't know how to talk to women, something about them eludes him.  
Just like now.

Jaskier gasps in offense and paces even more besides him. It only makes the smell worse.  
“Oh really?! Thought of it myself?!” Her fists ball in anger and he is sure had she been holding a drink, she would have flung it at him.  
“Maybe I could have stocked up, if we wouldn't have arrived so late in the evening that every single shop and stand was closed. And the next morning you decide to leave so early, that not only was I still half-asleep, no shop had been open either!  
But it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because you tend to leave so fast, that I wouldn't have been able to enter one, without your ass disappearing behind the next hill!”

Okay, he really did that. But like hell would he admit this.  
He opens his mouth, ready to debunk her accusation when Jaskier suddenly stops in the middle of the path with a dumbfounded look on her face.  
“Oh crap.”  
The smell of blood grows worse, running down in streaks and soaking fabric. He can see it in mind. He doesn't need Jaskier to tell him. A wound must have opened. Enough bickering. He has to act now. He grabs Jaskiers arm and drags her to a stump besides the path.

“Hey! What-? Geralt! What are you doing?!” She almost screams. He ignores it for now. Instead he pushes her on the stump. Maybe a bit too hard. She winces. Geralt feels sorry. He should have said something sooner. This one is on him.  
But he has no time for ruefulness. Jaskier is hurt. He has to help her take care of the wound if she can't do it herself.  
“Geralt! What are you doing!?” She bites. She even grits her teeth. Geralt is almost impressed with her facade. Almost.  
If he could only see the injury. He starts unclasping the buttons and latches on her blouse.

“Geralt! What?!” She smacks at his hands, keeps pushing them away.  
“Seriously?! What are you doing?! This has to be the fastest mood shift I've ever seen in you!” She tries to kick him. He evades with little grace. It only makes him angrier that she seemingly jokes about her being hurt. And she still won't comply.

“If you can't take care of yourself, I have to do it.” He growls when his hands finally manage to open a few buttons despite her squirming.  
“What?! I-  
Geralt!  
Stop!”  
And he stops. He takes a deep breath, despite the odor of blood in the air, and looks at her. And- oh...  
… he understands her now.

Jaskier has skidded almost off the stump. She pants in agitation. Her face red with anger and confusion. He has opened her blouse halfway and sees how the fine fabric practically flows smoothly against her delicate frame, gliding over her shoulders. She has her leg lifted, ready to kick at him again if necessary. Her heel points directly at his crotch. A dangerous sparkle in her eyes.  
“What. Do you think. You're doing.  
Geralt. Answer me.  
Now.” she snarls.  
Had he been anybody else, any other man, he would have already gotten kicked off of her. Jaskier takes no prisoners, he's seen her often enough perform and defend herself from lustful drunkards in taverns and inns.  
It is not her fault for misreading the situation. He must really learn to talk to women. Or people in general.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- “ He gesticulates awkwardly at her.  
“But you're hurt. I can smell the blood. And you didn't-”  
“You can smell it!?” Jaskier screeches and he can see the red rushing into her face. She skitters from him and almost falls off the stump.  
“Yes, I can smell it. But you said nothing about being injured so I-”  
“I'm not hurt!”  
Geralt stares at her. Sees the somewhat shameful look in her eyes and he still doesn't understand.  
“But the blood-”  
She pants in embarrassment and averts her eyes. It makes her look bashful. The pink tint still high in her cheeks.  
“I'm bleeding, Geralt. But I am not hurt.”

Geralt is completely bewildered. That makes even less sense. Bleeding with no injury.  
“How is that possible. You can't bleed without a wound. You're injured, you bleed. Simply as that.”  
Jaskiers eyes fall back on him, searching his face for anything indicating a joke or an upcoming insult. She finds nothing. Only the bafflement of a man who understands nothing.  
She shakes her head.  
“Melitele, Geralt. You're the biggest oaf I've ever met.”  
“What-”  
“Women bleed, Geralt. Once a month, an adult woman bleeds. Don't you know anything?”  
Geralt only keeps staring at Jaskier as if she had declared herself to be the Queen of Nilfgaard. In fact, she has never seen him with such a look of utter disbelieve. It makes him look even more like a fool in her books.  
Jaskier manages to calm herself slowly down. Geralt is an idiot and misread a situation. So what?  
“Where do you bleed exactly?”  
“EXCUSE ME?!”  
He mutters to himself, suddenly unsure if he just crossed a line. It is his turn to have the pinkish tint of embarrassment in his face. He even fiddles his fingers like a child caught trying to get into the cookie jar.  
It has taken her aback. 

Geralt of Rivia, Geralt the witcher. Geralt, also known as the butcher, the white wolf, the legendary witcher -  
-has no fucking clue how the female body works.  
Jaskier snorts. It is just to fucking funny and explains so much about Geralt.  
“You really don't know, do you?” Jaskier asks and it comes out more insulting than she intended. She can basically see the blow she just dealt to his pride. Geralt scoffs and turns, ready to let her sit on the stump.  
Great, leave it to the fragile man-ego to make her feel bad. But she makes a quick grab for his arm, holding him in place.  
“I didn't mean it like that. But I guess it only makes sense,” she trails off, remembering what little he has told her about his training and youth. It's almost nothing, but enough to connect dots she hadn't seen before.  
“You grew up only surrounded by men, so it makes sense that female biology wasn't a top-notch priority.”  
“I don't even want to know anymore. You're not injured, I don't have to care! Let's go!”  
Jaskier huffs a small laugh and shakes her head.  
“Alright. Just give me like, five minutes. And a warp of linen, please. Then I'll be good to go.”

Jaskier returns from the underbrush and overgrowth behind a thicket after only a few moments. The smell of blood has volatilized to a bare whiff. And while both had time to calm their nerves down, there is still something like an awkward tension left between them when they return to the path.  
Jaskier bites her lip and lightly chews it, unsure how to break the quiet lingering between them. After walking for almost one hour in silence she finally decides to pluck up some courage and confront the issue head on.  
“Would you like to ask me something, Geralt?”  
More or less confronting. Geralt only grunts. And remains silent. Jaskier thinks he wants to drop it and never have it come up again. Until next month, when he will think she's hurt, again. And be grumpy. Damn stupid men and their stupid-

“Why do adult women bleed?” comes his rough voice from the side.  
Oh.  
Okay.  
Or not.  
A shy smile ghosts over her face. Looks like someone is in for a little lesson of biology.  
“Well, first, to be clear: I will not explain to you how sexual reproduction works. You should know so much. You've been to brothels. You know how this stuff works!”  
Geralt glances at her meticulous and a little bit humiliated. But he says nothing and Jaskier continues.  
She will teach him about the female body, whether he likes it or not. 

And if someone would have been along with them in the forest and would have perked their ears, they would have certainly heard snippets of a very interesting conversation of a giddy bard and a puzzled witcher. It would have been along lines such as:

“I have teeth down there.”  
“You're shitting me!”  
“No, seriously. Some women have teeth there. I'm not shitting you. I'm one of them!  
And I will bite you if you try any shit like this ever again!”  
Followed by a snorted laughter and the annoyed yell of a bard who just had been shoved playfully.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know why I wrote this, it just came to me.
> 
> Maybe it was just Geralt and his strong, stupid himbo-energy. I mean, I look at him and think "this man knows his craft of witchering, but ouside of that, this man knows shit! Especially about women!"


End file.
